


I want you (so bad it's driving me mad)

by maxette



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Crack?, M/M, also nonexplicit Merlin/William, idk this whole show is kind of crack right?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-27
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-10 20:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxette/pseuds/maxette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suddenly everyone seems irresistibly drawn to Merlin and Arthur wants to stab things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I want you (so bad it's driving me mad)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this prompt](http://nozomi-no-da.livejournal.com/94536.html?thread=724552) from [this kink meme](http://nozomi-no-da.livejournal.com/94536.html).

Gwen had a crush on Merlin. Arthur knew it. The poor maiden was quite obviously besotted and Arthur didn’t mind. Merlin was—was—something. Arthur couldn’t put his finger on it. He was irresistible in this awkward, incompetent way. He had an indentation, a little dimple, in his lower lip. And bright blue eyes. And the kind of sticky-out ears his mother must have thought he’d grow into. Gwen was an intelligent, perceptive girl; she couldn’t help herself. Merlin never looked at her twice, never had, and Gwen was too modest to try anything, so all was right.

However, _Uther_ had never leered at Merlin like that before. Arthur was quite sure. In fact, Arthur had thought perhaps his father didn’t like Merlin at all. Now though—

“Merlin,” Father said, as if he’d never heard the name before. Again, he purred, “Merrrrr-lin.”

“Yes, Your Highness?” Merlin held his hands behind his back and looked down at Father from under his eyelashes, like a perfect little—manservant. Arthur wanted to stab things. What were they doing in the dining room when Arthur could be out sword fighting? Merlin could stay safely behind Arthur then and not so close to his _leering_ father.

“More wine, Merlin,” Father said, leaning forward. “ _Please_.”

Father had his _own_ manservant. Father did not need Merlin to pour him wine. However, father’s manservant seemed quite occupied watching Merlin bend forward to reach the wine decanter. Why! Arthur stabbed the table with his fork. Merlin had a lovely backside, of course – it was summer and his trousers were thin and tight – but there was no need to stare. In fact, it was a disgusting display of impropriety. Why did they keep such a degenerate on staff?

Then, “I’d also like some wine, Merlin,” from _Morgana_ who had not only Gwen waiting to care for her needs, but her own jug of watered wine on the _other_ side of the table. Ridiculous! And then she leaned forward, so her bosom was precariously ready to fall from her décolletage. Ridiculous dress!

Merlin was looking at her, his gaze locked—yes, right there. Disgusting girl! Yet how could Merlin stop himself? Morgana’s cleavage was like an execution – terrible and impossible to look away from. He was close to overflowing Father’s goblet with distraction, but he jumped and stopped pouring when—Father pinched his bum!

“Well!” Arthur couldn’t stop himself from saying and Merlin blushed, bright red from his ears down his neck. Father chuckled and winked at Arthur like they were staring at some grand joke. Winked! Over _Arthur’s_ manservant! Whom Father had agreeably _ignored_ until this terrible night.

Merlin cleared his throat – it was very rude for a servant to do so during a meal, but Father only chuckled again – and walked down the table to help Morgana.

“Mmm,” Morgana said, practically _moaning_ , the little hussy, and—where was _her_ hand going! It was impossible to tell from Merlin, who had not stopped flushing from Father’s behavior and could not possibly—well, there, it seemed he could. Merlin’s head had become a tomato for all intents and purposes. The fittest tomato ever to be grown. Arthur looked to his father in hopes he would tell Morgana off, but Father was just leaning on his hand, watching the scene with a sleepy, steady gaze.

Arthur lifted his wine goblet – a little low, actually, not that Merlin had time to do anything about it – and swallowed it all in even gulps. Alcohol never had the instant effect he wished for in moments like these, though there had never been a moment he had more wished to be incapacitated to the goings on around him. Maybe he’d best concentrate on his meal. That’s what supper was for, after all, wasn’t it, family?—to _sup_ , not watch beautiful young boys. Where was his fork? Stabbed in the table! When had he done that? He pried it back out of the wood, but couldn’t help looking up for Merlin, perhaps to share a smile over this—but he was with Guinevere! Arthur stabbed the table again. She had pulled him away from the table and was holding his hand between both of hers—that was _not_ to be borne. If there was ever inappropriate dinner behavior it was that.

Arthur stood up. “Merlin! I’m leaving! Attend to me.”

“But you’ve hardly eaten—” Did he _want_ to stay there? Perhaps Merlin enjoyed being propositioned by Arthur’s father and Morgana and everyone in the castle. Arthur took a deep breath. Very well. Merlin _was_ so awkward and—and _skinny_ and _un_ desirable and this was likely a thrill. Let him be pawed and stared at like a stallion if he wished. Arthur cared not at all.

“Or do not attend to me!” Arthur stomped toward the door, enjoying all the force and noise he could make with each step. “My family clearly requires you more than I.”

“Yes, Merlin,” Father said, his voice like hot, dripping honey.

“Oh, yes,” Morgana confirmed in that same disgusting tone.

Then Gwen, in her tinkling, earnest way – even more infuriating, said, “ _Please_ , Merlin.”

Arthur heard them as he passed Merlin and Gwen, practically embracing him now, and fisted his hands to keep from grabbing his manservant and carrying him away from this den of sin.

“Arthur!” Merlin said, his name in his voice, so rare, was like a balm to Arthur’s senses. “Please, I _wish_ to attend to you.”

Arthur turned and their gazes met for the first time all day, or so it felt. The muscles in his neck and back finally relaxed and he smiled. “Come along, then.”

Merlin grinned, pulled away from Gwen’s grasp, and jogged forward.

“Merlin—” his father said again, in his King Uther tone and Arthur remembered he could order Merlin to stay. He could order Merlin to do whatever he wanted, in fact. Arthur put his hand against Merlin’s back – a little low, a mark of possession, though the world was unfair and he did _not_ own Merlin – and hurried him out of the room.

Father might have said his name, might have called to the guards, but Arthur practically ran them down the hall and up a stairwell.

“What _was_ that?” Arthur said, when they were safely away. A young male servant carrying a pile of rags smirked and moved his eyes over Merlin’s form as he passed them, as if to prove his point.

“What was what, sire?” Merlin said, even as he blushed and looked away from the other boy.

“Merlin!” Arthur groaned. “You’re _not_ so stupid. Everyone—everyone— _wants_ you! Desperately!” Merlin frowned at him. “This must be magic!”

“No! No, no, I think not! Do _you_ want me desperately, sire?” Oh, Merlin teased him with the formality! Arthur had never been called “sire” so much in his life. But then Arthur was avoiding the topic.

“No!” he said, not exactly lying. Well, no. He was absolutely lying. But his desiring Merlin was normal, whilst his father and Morgana’s behavior was new and lecherous. “But that is hardly the point!”

“I don’t think there is anything—er—unusual. Would you like to retire to your room now?”

Merlin could be so annoying! Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and allowed himself to pout a little. “I’m hungry,” he said.

Rubbing the back of his head in that _way_ of his, Merlin smiled at him _._ “Then why did you leave dinner?”

“Because, Merlin!” Arthur huffed and rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Merlin said. “Thank you for protecting me from your wanton dining companions.”

Merlin was mocking him, the little snot, but he was right to thank him and just so—adorable, watching him with wide eyes and upturned mouth. “It was my pleasure to assist you.” Merlin laughed and Arthur couldn’t help but grin back. “I assure you, your honor was in jeopardy.”

Arthur started toward his room and Merlin followed. “I don’t know how to break it to you, but I did away with my honor a few years past.”

“You did not!” He couldn’t imagine Merlin lying with a woman and when he finally did, all the muscles in his back tensed up again. What woman? Why? Had Merlin loved her? Had she appreciated him? Why had he left her in Ealdor? Or perhaps it was someone in Camelot. Was Arthur wrong about Gwen, the lovesick whore?

“I did!” Merlin said, defensive and oblivious to Arthur’s thoughts. “With—someone from my home.”

“Did I meet her while we were there?” Arthur didn’t really want to know, but he couldn’t help himself. Merlin hadn’t introduced him to any girls. Was Arthur not important enough to know her? He supposed they had been a bit preoccupied on that trip, with fear and training and fighting, but _still_.

“No—you—yes. You met William.”

“Well, of _course_ I met William, Merlin, I—” Merlin blushed again. “Oh. I—I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the extent of the loss of his death.”

“He was a good friend.” Merlin nodded. “But I wasn’t in love with him.”

They had reached Arthur’s room. “Come in,” he said, opening the door, and Merlin gasped.

“Sire! You claim to protect my honor and yet it is _you_ who proposition me!”

Arthur chuckled and punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Shall I find a more virtuous young lad to undress and bathe me?”

“No!” Merlin dashed inside and closed the door behind him. “I—I can do it.”

The air in the room was thick. Arthur turned his back to Merlin and spread his arms to allow him to take off his coat. He could hear Merlin rummaging behind him while he unbuttoned his shirt and toed off his boots. Merlin came in front of him again and reached out. For a moment, Arthur thought he meant to help him with the ties of his pants, but then he took the shirt from him and was gone again. Arthur blushed and hurriedly took off his pants himself.

Merlin’s gaze was averted as he held out Arthur’s sleep shirt and said, “Would you like me to send up a plate from the kitchen along with the bathwater?”

Their fingers brushed as Arthur took the shirt. It was like the vibrations of a sword hit passed between them, shooting down to his cock. Arthur took a few quick steps to the corner of the room and pulled his shirt over his body, hiding himself.

“No bath tonight,” he said. It was an odd request. It had been hot and sticky in Camelot for days and he liked to cool down at night and wash away the smell of the day’s exertions. He couldn’t imagine Merlin touching him now, or, more to the point, he could much too easily imagine it. “But I’d appreciate the plate.”

“Yes, sire.” Merlin’s voice was much closer behind him than he’d expected. Arthur could feel his breath on the back of his neck. “I’ll—be back soon.”

When Merlin returned with a tray of food and wine, Arthur noticed right away that something was different about him. What was it? Why, his shirt was ripped at the shoulder seam! But that wasn’t it— “Your scarf. What happened to that stupid scarf you always wear? And your shirt?”

“I was—you’ll be happy to know you have a very enthusiastic kitchen staff.”

Merlin’s hair was a tousled mess, as well. “The wenches attacked you!” He wanted to rip their ears off! Either there was something in the water – and Camelot’s water was notoriously problematic – or this it was indeed magic. “You said I was crazy!”

“I didn’t! _You_ said you don’t want me desperately.”

“I don’t!” Perhaps Arthur should just be honest, if it would get Merlin to admit something was amiss, but if there was an enchantment over the people, he was sure it was not the basis for his own feelings. Besides, even if it was magic, Arthur didn’t know what he could do. He had long ago realized that Father’s banishment of sorcery had left them absolutely vulnerable to magical attack. It was extremely frustrating.

“Do you really think no one could find me attractive without magical interference?”

Arthur thought nothing less, but he said, “This is no time to cuddle your ego—”

“No time? This is no time at all! This is any normal evening.”

Stubborn boy! “Fine! Put my dinner on the table. You may leave me for the evening.”

Merlin winced apologetically, and said, “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do for you?” but Arthur would have none of it.

Alone, though, Arthur didn’t know what to do with himself. It was much earlier than he usually retired and he wasn’t ready to sleep. He ate his dinner and drank the whole decanter of wine and lay on his bed. His mind was full of Merlin. He shouldn’t have let him leave. He was surely being buggered that very moment, with a line of people waiting to take their turn. Arthur sat up, realizing that wasn’t at all funny. No. That horrible thought couldn’t be true. The infirmary and Gaius’s chambers weren’t far from his room and it was too late for too many people to pass Merlin on his way. Arthur lay down again.

He was hard. He hadn’t been with anyone in months, since just before he’d killed that unicorn and cursed the kingdom. That was the first time he realized it meant something that he would die for Merlin. Arthur would die for a lot of people – for his father, for Morgana, for his knights – but not for just anyone and certainly not for any other servant. He knew how important he was to the future of Camelot: Father didn’t have enough time to raise another boy.

Arthur fisted his cock almost without thinking. After drinking the sleeping drought, he’d woken up to Merlin’s face above him. With the sound of breaking waves and the blue sky above them, he’d thought he was in heaven. He’d quickly realized what was actually going on, but now he imagined it _was_ their afterlife, together on a beach, and he could reach up to Merlin, tangle his hands in his hair like the cook maids had done, feel the fuzzy back of his neck. What would Merlin taste like? Would he be a confident kisser? Arthur had always imagined not, that he would have to tease and teach him, but if he’d been with William – he gasped through a fresh shock of jealousy, almost as hot as it was painful. Perhaps Merlin would know exactly what he was doing. Arthur would have to bite his bottom lip right away, feel it between his teeth, the round softness of it under his tongue—

Arthur came, biting his pillow. He almost never made it past kissing. He had no idea what he’d do if he and Merlin were ever really to kiss.

Not that that would ever be a problem.

  


* * *

  


Merlin usually woke Arthur up in the morning. A few times, because he was an incompetent manservant, Merlin slept in and Arthur had to wait for another servant to pass by his room and ask that fellow to wake Merlin up. Most of the time, though, Merlin came in with Arthur’s clean armor and breakfast and gossip from the kitchens.

So Arthur was used to waking up to Merlin. Waking up to Merlin asleep in his bed—that was a little different. He wasn’t asleep parallel to him either, like a normal person, but curled into himself at the foot of the bed.

It was still dark out, likely still hours away from sunrise. The moon sent in enough light to tell him he’d fallen asleep with his bedside candles lit and they’d melted down to nothing. He was tempted to wake Merlin up and have him get fresh candles – how convenient that he was here and with his shoes still on at that – but it didn’t seem right. Instead, he took careful steps to his cupboard, removed an extra quilt from the top shelf and took it back to Merlin. But as he took off Merlin’s boots, Arthur was reminded of the hunter hound his father let him keep in his room at night until he was “too old for it” and that wasn’t right either. Merlin wasn’t an animal and Arthur wouldn’t take Merlin being removed from his life in the same stride, either.

Arthur shook him by the shoulder and whispered his name. Merlin sucked in a breath and squinted at him. “Get in bed,” he said.

“I am in bed—oh, I’m sorry—!” Merlin sat up and Arthur just pushed him to the right side of the mattress. Whatever reason Merlin had for sleeping in there was surely a good one and he’d hear it in the morning.

“Go back to sleep, Merlin,” he said, tucking him in under the covers. He tossed the extra quilt on the floor and got back in bed himself.

Despite the warm night, the extra body heat wasn’t uncomfortable. Then again, Merlin was quite far away, feet and feet away, and already sleeping once more. Arthur put both his arms under his body to keep from reaching out to smooth his hair or touch his mouth or—

He turned on to his other side and didn’t move again until he fell asleep.

  


* * *

  


He moved quite a bit after that, however. When he woke up again, to the early morning sunshine, he and Merlin had both made their way to the center of the bed and to make room, Merlin had politely gotten on top of him. Their legs were tangled together and his face was pressed between Arthur’s arm and his chest.

 _This_ was why a prince didn’t sleep with his manservant. It wasn’t done just to avoid awkward situations like the present one. Arthur moved his arm and found it could bend onto Merlin’s head quite naturally. He paused mid-motion, then gave in and spread his fingers through Merlin’s hair. It was soft and warm, his scull terrifyingly delicate.

He got away with this for a few minutes, and then Merlin snuffled and stretched, waking up. Arthur closed his eyes and went through his own motions of awakening and appropriately started when he opened his eyes to Merlin sitting up and trying to disentangle them.

“Sorry,” he said, blushing and rubbing his eyes. “I guess I’m—used to sleeping alone.”

Arthur would _hope_ so. “Remind me why you’re in my bed?”

“I—last night, I got back to my chambers and Gaius and I ate our own supper and it was fine—he was watching me, but—and then he stood up and told me I looked sore and started rubbing my arms and then my chest—” Nasty old man! Arthur looked away. Was he any better, stroking Merlin’s head while he slept? Arthur wanted to _stab_ things. “And I retired to my room and looked for a counter—I mean, I laid about, you know? But then Gaius came in and sat on my bed and—I thought it was best if I didn’t spend the night there. You seemed to be the only one in the castle who isn’t—drawn to me.”

That was so incorrect! Arthur scratched his hands through his hair. He _was_ drawn to Merlin, there simply wasn’t any _change_. What did that mean?

“So, do you agree it could be magic?” he said, finally. Merlin nodded into his bended knee.

“Why would anyone even _create_ this spell?”

“A better question: why would someone do it to you?”

“Hey, now,” Merlin said. “Maybe it was just written in a book with no description and no illustrations and the sorcerer made an honest mistake.”

Arthur shook his head and laughed. His manservant could be so ridiculous. Merlin smiled so softly and sweetly and Arthur realized afresh that they were sitting in bed, inches away from one another. It was so intimate, a perfect display of what he wanted every morning. Arthur stood up to keep from tackling him or telling him he loved him or something equally humiliating.

“Do you really think a sorcerer could be so incompetent?” Merlin threw a pillow at his back. “What?” Merlin shrugged. “Planning on having a lie-in this morning, Merlin?”

He flushed and got up, tripping over the sheets twisted around his feet. Arthur smiled openly, as Merlin couldn’t see him. When had his clumsiness become so endearing?

  


* * *

  


The morning went reasonably well – Merlin managed to get dressed in new clothes and bring him breakfast without any new ripped seams or love bites although apparently a very sore arse. Watching him hobble around the room was much sexier than it should have been, as he imagined what he could do to make Merlin walk that way.

It all went to hell during afternoon archery practice with the knights. At first, the knights performed terribly, too distracted by Merlin walking behind Arthur, carrying his quiver and bow. Then they began treating him like a prize lady, calling out to him, “A bull’s-eye for you, Merlin!” and tricking one another into missing. When a fight broke out between Sir Lionel and Sir Persant, Arthur told Merlin he had to leave. Groans and protests broke out amongst the knights and a few looked ready to fight him to make Merlin stay. He had to leave quickly.

But where could he go? Arthur didn’t want him to go anywhere unescorted, but there was no one he trusted to guard him. He could take Merlin back to his own rooms and lock him there until he was finished for the evening…

“An excellent idea!” said Father, appearing from nowhere. “I will take young Merlin back to the castle.”

Merlin took unsteady steps backwards and Arthur moved in front of him without thought. “No need, Father,” he said. “I can—”

But then _Gaius_ was there too, coming out from behind a tree saying, “Merlin had better come with me. I need his assistance—”

Voyeuristic, perverted old men, sneaking around like Merlin was just _available_ for their viewing pleasure. Morgana and Gwen and the other ladies of the court watched the knights in training, but they had nothing to do but scope out Camelot’s husband pool, so Arthur allowed it. Gaius and the _ruler_ of this land had many better things to do.

 “He is _my_ manservant!” Arthur shouted. “He will come with me!”

“Arthur,” Father said, voice low and demanding, but Arthur wouldn’t stand for it. This was not something for his father to control.

He bent until his shoulder was level with Merlin’s hips and then lifted him up. Merlin squawked and flailed, making it almost impossible to move with him. This wouldn’t do. Father was still too surprised to do anything to stop him, but he could easily call the guards on him. The usually unflappable men in helmets had been ogling Merlin with the best of them and would be glad to keep him from leaving.

Arthur gave Merlin’s arse one firm slap and the other boy calmed down. His cargo balanced, he walked toward the nearest saddled horse, put Merlin on it, and then swung himself behind him. As he nudged his horse in the haunches, he heard the veritable crowd of Merlin’s admirers begin to gasp and call out.

They rode silently for a few minutes, until they reached the river. Arthur jumped off and had to stop himself from offering his hand to Merlin. Merlin was not a maiden, no matter how much he’d been treating him as such. Merlin stumbled while getting off the horse anyway, so Arthur really should have trusted his instincts.

“Is this where you take all the girls?” Merlin said.

“What?”

“This is—where I caught up with you when you eloped with Sophia.” Oh, that. Arthur was thrilled to be reminded. “And I don’t think you ever treated her as possessively as you just did me.”

“Would you have preferred I left you with the horny mob?” Arthur said, exasperated. He dropped down at the bank of the river and looked through the sand for skipping stones.

“No!” Merlin said, sitting next to him. “But you have to admit you know how to make an exit.”

“I’m a prince,” he said, shrugging.

“How long do you expect to stay out here?”

“Until dinner?”

Merlin nodded. “Let’s hope this enchantment’s a twenty-four hour thing.”

“Are many enchantments twenty-four hour things?”

“What! How would I—I don’t know.”

Arthur raised a perfect stone, toasted, “Here’s hoping,” and pitched it in.

“As long as we’re out here,” Merlin said, tugging at his scarf, “Want to go swimming? I think it’s even hotter today.” He pulled off his boots and shirt and stepped into the gentle waves. Arthur stared at his back, pale with light brown freckles across his shoulder blades. Was he purposefully tantalizing him?

It was a terrible idea to follow Merlin into the river. It was best for all involved that Arthur stayed as far away from Merlin’s naked body as possible. His own body apparently did not agree, taking off his clothes and wading into the water before Arthur realized what he was doing.

The water was cold and wonderful against his skin. A few feet from him, Merlin sighed and bobbed up to float on his back. For being so thin and lanky in his clothes, Merlin had a fine physique. Pale skin, a smattering of dark hair. Arthur took a deep breath and ducked his body under water, pushed down to skim the bottom, willing the chill to cool his raging desire.

Arthur came up for air and looked around for Merlin. Where was he? He felt him before he saw him again, first his hands, hot on his shoulders, and then his chest pressed all the way down his back.

“Are you aroused, sire?” Merlin said and then pressed his cock against the small of Arthur’s back. _Merlin_ was certainly aroused.

Merlin. Was aroused. Pressed against Arthur.

He turned around and stared at him, open-mouthed.

“Are—are you?” Merlin said, his voice small, treading away, in the _wrong_ direction. Arthur finally realized himself and wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist, pulling him back to him. That was Merlin’s hard cock pressed right up against his own. That was one of his tight brown nipples, right _there_ , inches from his mouth. And he could lick it if he wanted to. And he wanted to. He wanted to lick all of him.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes. I’m _always_ aroused around you, Merlin.”

Merlin exhaled shakily and pressed his forehead to Arthur’s neck. “Oh, I thought you were going to kill me.”

“It’s not the spell,” Arthur felt compelled to clarify, then pressed kisses down the line of his shoulder. “I’ve felt this way—since you asked me how long I’d been training to be a prat. You didn’t back down.”

“No,” Merlin said. “I’ve been practicing walking on my knees.”

A fierce rush of heat hit him right in the stomach. He tried to sound casual, “Have you?”

“Oh, yes.” Merlin sucked his earlobe into his mouth, moved his teeth up the curve, and then hissed, “I want you to fuck me. I swear I’d be good. I’d be so good for you—“

Arthur groaned and circled his cock with two fingers at the base, gripping as hard as he could. He’d put his embarrassing fantasies to shame and come before they got _any_ where if they didn’t start soon. “How about—kissing, first?”

“Kissing!” Merlin said, as if the idea had just occurred to him and then they were. He finally had his answer: Merlin tasted like salt and strawberries and river water. Arthur kicked them back towards the shore and laid him out on the bank. He was a prince and Merlin was his servant – perhaps it was proper that he be taken care of first, but Merlin was all laid out and ready to be attended to… if they were going to do this, they had to come into it as equals.

When he felt capable of moving on from Merlin’s mouth, he licked down his collarbone, around the subtle line of his pectorals, dipped into his navel and over his left hipbone, and the right, and then there it was, a – wow – absolutely enormous cock and balls to match. Arthur would have been intimidated if it had been anyone other than Merlin, if this wasn’t his friend, his – he couldn’t deny it, didn’t want to anymore – his soul’s match in every way.

Merlin came quickly and Arthur came at the same time, thrusting against Merlin’s leg. He lurched his way back up Merlin’s body and lay down on top of him, gasping for breath. He’d never felt so warm and relaxed in all his life, as if his bones were jelly, molding to Merlin’s body.

“I understand it now,” Merlin said.

“What?” Arthur kissed him on the temple. Because he was allowed to do that now.

“I’ve sometimes heard—my mother told me we’re two halves of the same coin.” Arthur hummed. That was exactly what they were. “Do you really think my scarves are stupid?”

Arthur laughed, amused that Merlin had been hanging on to that all day. “They cover up your chest. I don’t see the need for that.”

“I burn in the sun very easily!” That was ridiculous, coming from a boy lying naked in the streaming sunshine that very moment. “And it’s a very dapper look.”

“Did your mother tell you that, too?”

Merlin blushed.

  


* * *

  


Arthur was nervous about going back to Camelot that evening, but they couldn’t avoid it forever. There were a good number of people milling about the courtyard when they arrived and none of them took special interest in Merlin. Gwen appeared, likely on her way to the same dinner they were: an excellent test.

“Hello,” she said, very normally. “You two look happy! Though—Merlin, I think you have a bit of a sunburn and Arthur, what’s diff—are you wearing Merlin’s scarf?”

Arthur gaped helplessly and a quick look confirmed Merlin was blushing yet again. Gwen shook her head at them and chuckled, with all her intelligent perception. “Not to worry, Arthur. It looks quite dapper.”

“Ha!” from Merlin. Arthur kissed the red, pealing tip of his nose.

Gwen rolled her eyes this time and nudged them inside.

“Ah! Arthur,” Uther said as they walked through the door and the entire dining room erupted in laughter. “That was quite a display this afternoon, son. I’ve never known you to be quite so—possessive.”

Arthur stiffened. Did his father expect him to _share_? He would quite literally prefer to leave Camelot than share Merlin. But Father’s gaze was open and clear, dismissing Merlin with a glance, as Arthur had come to expect him to do. The spell had passed. “Did you think I would forbid you to use your manservant as you pleased?”

Arthur laughed and shook his head. He felt as if he were awakening from a dream. “More wine, Merlin,” he said and Merlin came forward beside him, helpfully using his left hand to pour the wine. Arthur took Merlin’s right hand in his under the table and their gazes met for one smiling moment.

Perhaps this was the dream. Or perhaps it was simply that all was right with the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you find a typo or other monkey business in this fic? I know it can feel rude or pushy or just weird to tell authors about that stuff, so [I made a form where you can report it anonymously](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1--1RxNJyJCWZPaRyBeV6jtmUrcEI0zuUkDvoJoA6A_A/viewform). Thank you in advance for making a better reading experience for future readers.


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